


this slope is treacherous

by nefertiti



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Love Confessions, Piningjolras, Shower Sex, lesbians make the world go 'round
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:24:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefertiti/pseuds/nefertiti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras is in love with her not-girlfriend. She just wishes that Grantaire felt the same way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this slope is treacherous

Enjolras wakes up to the sound of singing coming from her kitchen and the smell of pancakes and she stifles a smile. She turns around in bed and it’s empty just like she expected. She presses her face to the pillow next to her and it has the familiar scent of cigarette smoke, wine and the men’s cologne that Grantaire preferred wearing. She remembers being overwhelmed by that scent last night as Grantaire fucked into her steadily and loud whimpers escaped her mouth and a warmth spreads across her face.

She heaves a sigh before getting out of bed. She has to do it sometime today anyway and days like these come so rarely. It’s a Saturday and she doesn’t even have to leave her flat until at least eleven to meet Combeferre and Courfeyrac to plan the next meeting. She checks the time on her phone and she has at least two hours that she can spend with her- with Grantaire. Two hours of warmness and something neither of them would admit resembles domesticity.  

When she opens the door to her room and heads to the kitchen Grantaire’s with headphones in her ears and a spatula in her hand dancing around her admittedly large kitchen and singing along. She had cut her hair a week ago on a whim and it barely touched her shoulders. It looks almost like a bob but it was too curly to really be considered that. Now it swung about her face as she moved to music Enjolras could barely hear. She’s wearing one of Enjolras’ old shirts that’s too tight for her in the bust area and her underwear, one of the black, lacy ones she tends to wear when she knows Enjolras might want her to stay the night. Enjolras stands in the entrance to the kitchen, leans against the wall and presses her lips together tightly to keep from laughing. It doesn’t really help because a burst or laughter leaves her mouth and Grantaire spins around with her big, expressive, too blue, eyes, open wide.

Enjolras walks into the kitchen and she doesn’t stop herself from pressing a kiss to Grantaire’s lips. She pulls away and Grantaire taps her on the nose and pulls her headphones from out of her ears.

“I thought you’d be up soon.” A smile is spreading across her face and Enjolras wants to capture it and keep it in her pocket. Enjolras grimaces as soon as she thinks that. She’s been thinking like that more often than not for the past few months and it was strange.

“The coffee on the counter is for you.” Grantaire hesitates before kissing her on the cheek and walking back to the stove.

Enjolras settles herself at the kitchen table, drinking her coffee and looks at her not-girlfriend. Her movements are slower and more controlled and Enjolras knows it’s because she’s in the room with her. It’s obvious that Grantaire doesn’t quite feel completely comfortable when she’s around and it makes Enjolras wilt in her seat a little. It reminds her that while she and Grantaire’s not-relationship has become a little more secure in the past few months, Grantaire still doesn’t like her as much Enjolras would like her too.

Like is an understatement when she thinks about it really. Enjolras is in love with her not-girlfriend. She just wishes that Grantaire felt the same way. Courfeyrac laughed at her for about an hour when Enjolras told her that and then she called Combeferre over so they could both laugh at her together. At the time Enjolras glared at them until their laughs subsided into apologetic chuckles, but now it made her feel cold. Of course it was hilarious to them that Grantaire could ever love her. They were nothing but awful to each other in the beginning of their acquaintanceship back when Grantaire drank like it was breathing and mocked her constantly and Enjolras’ words were almost always harsh in return and when they started existing around each other more regularly and when Enjolras noticed her growing attraction to the artist, it grew worse. Enjolras grew stern and more severe to hide her own confusion. It’s just the way she worked. Human emotions make her nervous. Being nervous makes her colder and harsher than usual. Being cold and harsh makes people believe that she doesn’t care. It’s a cruel, vicious cycle.

Grantaire though, Grantaire makes her wish that she could be a warmer person.

She and Grantaire have been doing this _thing_ for the past eight months. She doesn’t know what to call it. They meet up almost every other day at the cafe for lunch. They talk for over an hour or more on some days, talking and sometimes arguing about any and everything and on some days they only spend a few minutes together before one of them has to leave. Then days go by and there’s nothing but radio silence from Grantaire and Enjolras misses her which makes no sense because they still see each other every week at meetings.

There are times when Grantaire would smile at her from across the room and Enjolras’ heart would stop in her chest every time. And then there are times when Grantaire would barely look at her and on the off moment that she does catch her looking, it’s with a frown and her chest would tighten. There are nights that they spend wrapped up in each other but by the time the sun is up, Grantaire is nowhere to be found. But then there are mornings filled with laughter and coffee and the smell of almost burnt bacon.

They still argue as much as they used to. Enjolras hasn’t stopped being stubborn and Grantaire hasn’t stopped being contrary. They still have differences of opinion and even with the opinions they do share they tend to disagree on how issues should be dealt with. Recently however, their arguments tend to involve less thorny, personal insults and they try to listen understand each other more. Some days she thinks that maybe, just maybe Grantaire could want more from her but every time she tries to discuss their relationship with the artist she stiffens and her face shuts down and it’s glaringly obvious that she doesn’t want to be with Enjolras the way Enjolras wants to be with her and that’s _okay_. Enjolras doesn’t mind settling for scraps. Sometimes though, she wishes.

The thing is, the state of their relationship is partly her fault. In the beginning she thought she would be too busy for any kind of commitment and Grantaire readily agreed with her. Most nights they would watch a movie and then they would have sex and Grantaire would sleep over or she would on the rare occasions that they went to Grantaire and Feuilly’s shared flat. That was months ago and it was great until it wasn’t. Until harsh grips turned into lingering caresses and rough kisses turned into sweet teasings of the lips that left Enjolras shuddering under Grantaire’s mouth. Until mild attraction turned into not so mild attraction and not so mild attraction turned into friendship and friendship turned into something else and the something else began to make her ache.  At least that’s the way it happened for her. She can’t speak for Grantaire.

The first time she noticed that she was in love with Grantaire was one night when they was sitting next to each other in Grantaire’s lounge room as they watched V for Vendetta with French subtitles. Grantaire held out her hand and said just in time with V: “A revolution without dancing is a revolution not worth having.” Enjolras took her hand tentatively and they were breathless with laughter as they bumped into furniture, attempting to waltz to no music around the cramped space of Grantaire’s living room. They miraculously managed not to break anything or throw anything down and Grantaire twirled her back to the sofa just in time to watch the Parliament get blown to bits.

In that moment she knew she needed her in her life for a very long time.

She’s never been in love before Grantaire. Enjolras isn’t good at being in love. She knows this. Her friends know this. Grantaire probably knows this too. That might be why she’s so reluctant to let their relationship turn into anything other than it already was.

Being in love makes her nervous. It makes her heart pound and her head spin. It makes her blush and stutter where she has rarely done so before. It makes her want to do absolutely foolish and ridiculous things like spend an entire day in bed with Grantaire stroking her hair. It makes her want nights full of lazy kisses. It makes her want to hold Grantaire in her arms whenever she looks upset and eradicate whatever it is that upset her from the face of the earth. Love distracts her. It consumes her. It confuses her. It makes her want to pull Grantaire across the table as she piles the pancakes onto two plates and drowns hers with syrup and hands the bottle over to Enjolras to do with as she pleases and kiss her until she’s breathless. It makes her want to do a lot of confusing and embarrassing things that make no sense to her.

She found herself nodding along to a Taylor Swift song two days ago much to her chagrin. What’s that saying about love? The songs start to make sense.  

The songs have been making sense for a while now.

They talk about the news over breakfast and coffee and on more than one occasion she catches Grantaire looking at her with something that was not quite fondness and something that was not quite wistfulness. Because it can’t be either.

_Maybe she wants to leave_. Enjolras thinks. _Maybe she thinks she’s spent more than enough time with me and she’s ready to go home._

Enjolras bites the inside of her cheek and forces a smile. She doesn’t want her to go just yet. If she has the choice, she’d keep her forever.

“I want to take a shower. Do you want to join me?”

Grantaire squeaks.

\--

Enjolras invested in three things when she got her own flat. A comfortable bed. A large kitchen. And a perfect shower. She so rarely sleeps, it’s always nice to be cosy and snug when she does. She’s a shit cook, a product of growing up with maids and cooks and never learning but Combeferre was great at cooking and so was Courfeyrac and so was Joly and later on she learned, so was Grantaire. Combeferre always told her that if she could take a pill so that she didn’t have to eat or sleep for the rest of her life, she would. Showers were a different story. Showers were her one indulgence.

The hot water hit her like a warm embrace. Or perhaps that’s Grantaire’s hands around her as they kissed under the double headed shower. Grantaire’s breasts slides against hers and the friction causes Enjolras to moan into the kiss.

“You’re going to fucking kill me.” Grantaire whispers into her mouth and no, Enjolras is pretty sure that goes the other way around. Grantaire’s hands roam Enjolras’ body and Enjolras shivers under the attention. When Grantaire finally deigns to pull away from her she takes the chance to suck a bruising kiss into Grantaire’s collarbone and Grantaire’s breaths starts coming in quicker.

“If you don’t fuck me-”

“Soon.” Enjolras whispers against her skin. Enjolras maps out Grantaire’s chest with her tongue. Her nipples are hard and Enjolras takes a rosy bud into her mouth, rolling it around with her tongue. Her teeth graze against it as she pulls off with an exaggerated pop and Grantaire laughs a breathy laugh. She lays her attention to the other breast when Grantaire tugs at her hair.

“Enjolras.” Grantaire whines and Enjolras smiles up at her. She traces her hands down Grantaire’s navel to her cunt and slides a finger against her. Grantaire is slick with want and Enjolras doesn’t stop herself from thrusting a finger inside her.

“Hnng.” Grantaire grunts. “More.”

Enjolras inserts another finger and thrusts deeper. Grantaire hooks a leg around Enjolras’ back for better leverage, the heel of her foot digging into the small of Enjolras’ back. She smoothes her hand through Enjolras’ hair and Enjolras kisses her. She swipes her tongue against her mouth, teasing her tongue against her. Grantaire parts her lips in welcome and Enjolras slips her tongue inside. Her tongue maps the contours of her mouth, swallowing Grantaire’s moans as Enjolras’ fingers worked inside her.

Grantaire sings like a symphony when she’s touched and Enjolras just wants to indulge.

She starts kissing along her jaw line and Grantaire takes the opportunity to start whimpering loudly. Enjolras is so happy that she lives alone. If Grantaire had to silence herself out of consideration for a roommate, Enjolras wouldn’t be able to take it. The sounds coming from her mouth are ambrosia and Enjolras wants to swallow it, wants to listen to it on repeat like a soundtrack.

“Enjolras please.” Enjolras has no idea what Grantaire’s begging for but she drives her fingers harder and Grantaire’s head falls back against the wall giving her further access to her neck. Enjolras takes the opportunity to place bites and kisses all over Grantaire’s neck.

“Jesus fuck.” Grantaire breathes. “How are you so good? How are you so good at this? Fuck. Don’t stop. You’re fucking perfect. I need to keep you with me forever.”

_Yes. Please keep me._ Enjolras thinks. She starts to rub her clit and Grantaire thrusts down onto her hand.

“No one should be this amazing.” Grantaire moans. “Keep going. Fuck me. You’re so- Christ I-.”

Enjolras cuts her off with another kiss. She wants to taste her orgasm on her mouth in more ways than one. She fucks her fingers forwards evenly as her tongue re-explores Grantaire’s mouth. When Grantaire comes it’s with a gasp against her mouth and Enjolras’ fingers buried in her cunt.

She fucks her through her orgasm until Grantaire’s moans subsides into whimpers. When she withdraws her fingers she quickly sucks them with a groan, in great detail before the water could steal the taste away from her. She licks her fingers clean and when she looks up Grantaire is looking at her with unmistakable awe in her eyes.

“Christ. You’re so fucking-”

Grantaire falls to her knees and Enjolras grips the handlebars in anticipation. Grantaire didn’t disappoint. Her tongue starts its work and Enjolras’ knees buckle. Grantaire holds her waist as she slides to the floor.

The water is still falling on them, hot.

Grantaire spreads Enjolras’ legs and puts her mouth on her again and Enjolras’ hands comb through her wavy hair. She grinds into her face and Grantaire’s nose nudges at her.

“Oh. _Oh_.” Enjolras moans. She knew this was a good idea. “Why don’t we do this here more often?”

Grantaire moves away from her ignoring Enjolras’ whine of frustration. “Bed’s closer.”

Enjolras groaned. “I didn’t actually want a response.”

“You’re still weirdly coherent.” Grantaire said cocking her head to the side mischievously. She presses two fingers into her and Enjolras grinds into it without hesitation.  “I don’t like that.”

She moves her hand languorously and Enjolras doesn’t know if she wants to kill her or grab Grantaire’s hand and actually fuck herself.

“ _Fuck me_.” Enjolras hisses.

“As you wish.” Grantaire says, smirking up at her insolently.

Enjolras bites her lips. Grantaire knows how much that look gets her off.  She suddenly stops thinking about that when Grantaire’s fingers twist inside her and Enjolras’ head falls to the side. Grantaire fucks into her steadily now. Her hands moving swiftly and Enjolras fucking loves those hands. Grantaire is an artist and she used to play piano so her fingers are dexterous and skilled and it takes a long time for them to tire.

Enjolras wants to give a gold medal to whoever created the piano...and paintbrushes.

There’s heat coming from the water and from the steam and there’s heat coming from her skin. The air is thick and she raises her hands to her mouth as she pants, trying to muffle the sounds.

Apparently that isn’t a good idea because Grantaire’s fingers stop moving and she whines, actually whines like she’s the one being fucked within an inch of her life right now. “Stop that. I want to hear you.”

Enjolras, ready to let Grantaire have anything, drops her hand to her side and whimpers in response and Grantaire, deciding that she had done something worthy or reward, put her mouth to her again. Grantaire’s free hand makes their way up Enjolras’ body to her breasts and she takes a nipple into her hand and rolls it under her thumb. Enjolras gasps into a moan and Grantaire starts tonguing her harder.

Enjolras runs her hands through Grantaire’s hair. It feels silky under the water and Enjolras is considering asking her whether or not she needs to breathe when a thumb starts rubbing her and that was it.

Enjolras is losing her words and she’s rocking her hips desperately, her grip on Grantaire’s head tightening. High pitched moans and mumbles tumble from her mouth and the water cascades down her body and she’s coming. Her hips don’t stop moving until the aftershocks start to wave through her body. Her hands release Grantaire’s hair and she suddenly feels boneless.

After a few minutes of breathlessness Grantaire eases them both to their feet. She cleans them both off efficiently, letting the water wash away any evidence of their coupling. Every time Enjolras tries to help, she gets her hand batted away for all her effort so she just stand there and lets Grantaire do all the work. Grantaire lathers them up with soap and Enjolras’ expensive body wash and washes them off thoroughly. Enjolras shudders as Grantaire kisses her shoulder.

Grantaire washes her own hair swiftly and without care, but when it comes to Enjolras she takes her time. Grantaire’s hands comb through her hair gently. Enjolras is taller than her so she has to tilt her head back as Grantaire works the conditioner throughout her hair. She scratches her scalp, working the conditioner in and Enjolras tries her hardest not to purr. Her body still feels over sensitized and Grantaire’s hands on her does absolutely nothing to help. By the time Grantaire’s done washing the conditioner from her hair, Enjolras is humming and Grantaire grips her by the waist and spins her around. Grantaire kisses her briefly and sweetly and then nudges her out of the warmth of the shower. _It’s a nice trick._ She thinks. She only shivers slightly.

Grantaire doesn’t go so far as to towel her dry, but she does wrap the fluffy white towel, hanging on the door, around Enjolras with a soft smile that Enjolras only ever seems to receive when they’re on their own.

Enjolras is slow as she trudges to her room. Grantaire is much quicker. She always seems to be after they’ve had sex. She’s already half dry and looking around the room for her clothes.

The scent of Enjolras’ flowery conditioner is strong as it wafts through the room like a bowl of potpourri and the thought of Grantaire smelling like her, like even a part of her for the day sends shivers down her spine that have nothing to do with their exertions.

“I wish-” Enjolras says. She flips her hair forward to towel her hair and by time she actually looks up and sees Grantaire’s interested face, she thinks over what she was starting to say in her head. She groans internally. She needs to learn to think more around Grantaire, but unfortunately that never seems to be an option for her.  “Never mind.”

“You wish what?” Grantaire asks, looking at her curiously. She has her own towel wrapped around her and she’s sitting at the edge of Enjolras’ bed. “Say it.”

“I wish- I just wish we could be together. Like in an actual relationship.” Her face heats as she leans against the wall next to her wardrobe in an attempt at nonchalance. She wants to go back to ten minutes ago or earlier this morning when they were having breakfast or even before that, to last night when they moving slowly together and her entire body was turning pink with pleasure instead of embarrassment at how pathetic she is.

“You don’t want to date me.” Grantaire snorts and yeah- Enjolras could have seen that one coming from a mile away.

“Yes I do.” Enjolras ducks her head. This is the reason Enjolras has never said anything before. She knew what Grantaire’s response would be and as expected, she feels mortified.

“No you don’t.” She heard more than saw the roll of her eyes.

“I know how you feel about this Grantaire but don’t presume to know how I do.” Enjolras’ voice grew cold as it is wont to do when she’s this horrified.

“Exactly how _do_ I feel?” Grantaire asks, her voice indignant. And why is Grantaire even making her do this. She gets it. Grantaire doesn’t like her like that. Fine. There isn’t really anything she could do about it, but to make her _say_ it.

Still, she’s never been one to shy away from an uncomfortable situation when she’s already in one.

“You don’t want me. At least not in that way. Not in the way that I want you.” She still can’t look Grantaire in the eye, but that was fine too. Eye contact is for people who _don’t_ have to go into hiding for the next month or two.

“Are you batshit?” Grantaire asks, after a long pause and she sounds outraged- which. 

“Excuse me?” Enjolras’ head snaps up, because really- she’s the one who should feel outraged at having to hash all of this out when she would much rather love the shorter woman in secret.

“How could you think that I don’t want you?” Grantaire says and she looks hurt which is confusing to Enjolras for so many reasons.

“You look terrified and uncomfortable every time I bring out relationship up?” Enjolras says exasperatedly.

“That’s because you always happen to be glaring at me every time you do that. I get scared that you’ve had enough of me and you’re going to end this.”

And Enjolras is trying her hardest to wrap her mind around the idea of Grantaire being scared that what they have would be over when she notices. “Enough of you? What does that even mean?”

“Enjolras I’m sleazy and kind of awful. I say shitty things without thinking about it and the only reason people don’t run away from me screaming in the streets is because I’m about as decent with a makeup brush as I am with a paintbrush so forgive me if I get nervous that the most beautiful, intelligent, driven woman I’ve ever met would have had enough of my bullshit at some point.” Grantaire doesn’t look at Enjolras through this entire declaration which is good because Enjolras is torn between frowning at Grantaire’s summary of herself and smiling because Grantaire thinks she’s the _most beautiful, intelligent, driven woman she’s ever met_ and she has no idea what face she’s making at the moment. Nothing about this conversation was making sense at all.

“What are you even talking about? You’re beautiful.” Enjolras says, confusedly. “And amazing. And talented. And eloquent. And so smart.”

It begins to dawn on Enjolras.

Grantaire doesn’t think she’s good enough for her. It sounds like the most ridiculous thing in the world but given the way Grantaire has hunched in on herself and looks at Enjolras apprehensively...

She wonders if she should dare.

Enjolras takes a step closer. “I love you.”

Grantaire scoffs, but her eyes are naked and open and she looks like she wants to believe what Enjolras is saying.

“You love me?” Her voice is full of derision.

Enjolras nods and she doesn’t even have a chance to get another word in because Grantaire pushes her back against the wall and her mouth is on hers and they’re kissing and Enjolras suddenly has nothing to say. Her hands make it to Grantaire’s short curls and Grantaire pulls away.

“Say it again.”

“I love you.” Enjolras says obediently. She looks at Grantaire and she looks shocked and happy and- Enjolras looks at her in disbelief.

“You mean?” Enjolras wants to believe it.

“Yes- I mean of course I love you too. I _love_ you. There’s literally nothing about you not to love.”

“So...” Enjolras starts slowly. “I love you and you love me.”

“Yes.” Grantaire replies, a grin unfurling on her face.

“Meaning that we’re both in love with each other?”  Enjolras asks.

“Yes.” Grantaire nods, her eyes trained on Enjolras’ lips.

“Meaning that if I asked you to be in a relationship with me you probably wouldn’t say no?” Enjolras asks, needing to be certain.

“Yes.” Grantaire says and she’s outright trying to hold back her laughter now.

“Okay.” Enjolras says trying to breathe steadily. “Grantaire will you-“

“Yes!” Grantaire said urgently, trying to move in for a kiss but Enjolras turns her face away slightly.

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask you.” Enjolras teases. It feels like a weight has been lifted off her chest. “What if you just agreed to do all of the pamphlets for Les Amis for a year?”

“I’m fine with that.” Grantaire says. “But only if I agreed to do it for my girlfriend.”

“That was kind smooth.” Enjolras breathes.

“I know.” Grantaire replies. “If it’s any consolation it wasn’t intentional.”

Enjolras just kisses her, wrapping her hands against Grantaire’s waist and pulling her in closer.

Combeferre and Courfeyrac would just have to wait for today.

\---

Later when Enjolras texted both Courfeyrac and Combeferre an apology and let them know that she was staying in with her girlfriend today, there were butterflies in her stomach.

But she did make sure to add that they didn’t have to worry about creating and printing out pamphlets for about a year. 

**Author's Note:**

> ever notice how a lot of taylor swift songs can be queer lady anthems. anyway this is my take on piningjolras. as a queer lady. i only looked it over once so all mistakes are mine.


End file.
